A Date With A Billionaire
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As Kane held the car door for her, he smiled. “I’ll see you Saturday morning…we need to leave by six to be sure of catching the ferry.”
She forced a smile of her own. “Great. Six sharp. Do me a favor, though.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t wear a suit.”
Kane laughed as Beth pulled from her parking space. To his surprise, he was actually looking forward to the weekend. There were worse things than spending time with a woman who wasn’t marriage hungry and anxious to score with a man simply because he had a hefty bank account.
In the meantime he had a hell of a lot of work to do. Somehow, the more money he made, the less freedom he seemed to have. Weekends were just two more days to get things done, and taking one off would mean lots of catching up.
He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had lunch without reading reports at the same time—it seemed a waste to just eat when he could be getting something done.
Still, it was rather nice eating with Beth like that. Between her stubborn attitude and that blasted contest she should have been a thorn in his side, but it wasn’t turning out that way.
The alarm went off at five on Saturday morning and Beth opened a bleary eye. “Shut up,” she growled.
The clock kept blaring and she stuffed a pillow over her head. She didn’t like morning at the best of times, but especially not after failing to sleep more than a couple of hours the night before. Then the phone rang, joining the noise from the radio. Beth moaned and grabbed it, succeeding in knocking the radio to the floor. It made a squawking noise, then fell into blessed silence.
“Yes?” she mumbled into the receiver.
“You’re still in bed, aren’t you?”
“Uh…Emily.”
It was her business partner at the clothing store. They got along great except for her being one of those annoying morning people who woke with the sun. Of course, she had incentive—a husband who worshiped the ground she walked on, along with a darling daughter and another baby on the way. Most of the time Beth managed not to envy Emily, but for the last several days she’d found her heart aching more than usual.
It didn’t make sense, because she didn’t want something from Kane. She just wanted…something. Beth dropped her head back on a pillow and wondered when her comfortable life had become inadequate.
“Yup, it’s me,” Emily said. “You have to get up, you have one hour to make yourself beautiful for Kane O’Rourke.”
Beth made a face. “That would take more than an hour, it would take a miracle.”
Her friend sighed. “You’re a very attractive woman.”
“Says the woman with the face of an angel,” Beth retorted. “I’ll talk to you when I get back.”
Putting the phone down, Beth pushed away the blankets, yawning and stretching, relishing the cool morning air on her bare skin. She’d already packed an overnight bag; it waited in the living room.
Padding into the bathroom, she glanced into the mirror. Her nipples were drawn tight, crowning her barely B-cup breasts. “A little cleavage would have been nice,” she murmured. Overall her figure wasn’t awful, but it certainly didn’t inspire any great male fantasies.
She’d barely been touched by a man, even during her brief engagement. It was her own fault. Curt had wanted to make love, but she’d been determined to “do things right” with a traditional wedding night. Now she wished they had made love a hundred times. At least she’d have something to remember…something to distract her from thinking about Kane O’Rourke.
“At least I’m a natural blonde,” Beth said, lifting her chin. Dark blond, to be sure, but blond. Not that Kane would ever see the proof of it.
When the doorbell rang fifty-five minutes later she was just finished swiping mascara on her lashes. She grabbed her purse and overnight bag and hurried to the door.
“I’m ready,” she said, flinging it open.
Kane waited, one hand holding a bunch of flowers, the other tucked into a pair of jeans. She stared, breathless at the difference casual clothing could make. A white shirt emphasized his shoulders—shoulders that seemed even more broad and muscular now that they weren’t covered by an expensive suit. He looked younger, more relaxed, and altogether sexy.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, taking the bag from her fingers.
“Yes. I mean, no. Nothing.”
He held out the flowers and she tore her gaze from his face and took the bouquet. It was a surprising mix of small yellow roses and daisies. “Thank you.”
Beth locked the door, her heart racing even harder. Kane O’Rourke in a suit was enough to make a woman think twice about all kinds of things; in a pair of jeans he could make serious inroads on her principles. Especially carrying daisies.
The bouquet did make her wonder, but it was probably just for publicity. At the thought, a thread of sadness crept through her. She loved flowers, but Curt had been the practical sort who didn’t go for romantic gestures—or else she just didn’t inspire that kind of thing.
At the curb sat a black limousine. Behind it idled a Chevy Blazer, black also. A photographer was filming them from an open window and her cheeks warmed. It had to be the newspeople Kane had warned her about earlier in the week. The opulence of the stretch limo made her grateful for the early hour since her neighbors would still be in bed—a hope that was dashed when she saw a curious face peer from the house across the street.
Swell.
She waved and scrambled into the vehicle with more haste than grace, sinking into the butter-soft leather seat. She put the flowers to one side and pushed her hands into the cushions, trying to sit straight.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.
Kane handed Beth’s bag to the chauffeur and climbed in next to her. “What’s ridiculous?”
“Spending this kind of money on a car.”
He hid his smile. “There’s nothing wrong with a little luxury. Besides, it gives us time to talk.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea. Like we have anything in common to talk about.”
“We’ll find something.” Kane stretched his legs out and rolled his shoulders. He suspected Beth was one of those people who got up a little irritable in the morning, which unfortunately led to thoughts of the ways he could find to wake her up in a better mood.
He wouldn’t be taking it anywhere, but it was baffling the way she made him feel. Beth Cox was too young for him, too innocent and too damned much trouble.
So why did he have this urge to spend the next seventy-plus miles kissing her senseless?
Chapter Three
“I can’t believe we’re actually taking a limousine to Victoria,” Beth said as they climbed to the passenger deck of the ferry. “Talk about conspicuous consumption.”
Kale shrugged. “It’s easier to have someone drive us around the city. But if you want, we can walk off with the foot passengers, rather than ride the limo.”
“You mean, in company with our chaperons?” She cast a significant glance at the camera crew toting equipment along behind them. They were lagging behind, struggling with their load on the steep and rather narrow stairway.
“Hey, I warned you there’d be photographers.”
“As if I had any choice in the matter.”
He chuckled, knowing there was a shred of truth in what Beth had said. She could have turned down the money for her charity, but he wouldn’t have stopped until he’d found a way to change her mind. It was one thing for him to be embarrassed by a newspaper article, another for his brother’s business—and pride—to be hurt, however innocently it might have happened.
They walked to the bow of the ferry and stood with excited passengers as the ferry chugged away from the pier. Seagulls screamed and dove above them with impertinent challenges, and as the boat made its way around the breakwater, the breeze picked up and the sea became choppier.
Beth leaned on the rail and gazed into the horizon, a far-off expression on her face. Gradually the cold early-morning wind off the Strait of Juan de Fuca drove their fellow passengers inside, leaving them alone on the deck—alone except for the stubborn camera crew, who had set up a discreet twenty feet away. At least they didn’t have to worry about every word they said being recorded.
“Aren’t you freezing?” he asked finally.
“No, but you don’t have to stay outside because of me,” she murmured.
Kane rested his elbows on the rail next to her. “I’m fine, but I’m wearing more clothes than you are.”
“Is there something wrong with my clothing?” Beth asked, her head tilted in challenge.
“Nope. You look terrific.” His tone grew a little husky and he hoped she’d put it down to chilly wind and noise from the ferry engines. The cold air was doing what a lover’s hands would accomplish, puckering her nipples beneath a thin green T-shirt. White shorts cupped her trim bottom, the cuffs a respectable three inches above her knees, and a pair of sandals emphasized the slender length of her legs.
There was nothing obvious or overblown about Beth, just an understated elegance he’d never fully appreciated before in a woman.
“So tell me,” he said, forcing his gaze out to the blue-green water of the Strait and away from temptation. “You never explained what was so terrible about us going on a date together.”
“I told you, this isn’t—”
“A date,” Kane finished for her. “I know. But it doesn’t matter what you call it, you still said ‘no.”’
Beth rubbed the back of her neck and then her arms, as if she’d suddenly become aware of the bite in the air. “My life is settled, I don’t need contests and fantasy dates to make me happy.”
Interesting. Kane suspected she wasn’t being entirely honest with herself, or with him. Most people wanted something, even if they didn’t know what that “something” might be.
“Are you happy?”
She flashed him an angry look and planted her hands on her hips. “That’s none of your business.”
“Shhh.” He put a finger over her lips and motioned to the camera crew. “Some of those folks are from a local television station. It isn’t good press for them to see us fight—at least it wouldn’t make the kind of press my brother needs.”
“Mmm.” She angled her head backward and gave him a sweetly false smile. “Would it make good press if I bite your finger?”
Kane laughed. Beth was bright and sassy like one of his sisters; he only wished he could think of her that way. Like a kid sister. Nothing sexual or uncomfortable, just a nice woman who didn’t confuse his body.
Hell, it was his own fault. He’d been celibate too long, buried in his work and bored with the whole social scene. A man got to a certain age and he didn’t feel like playing games with women, watching them dance around, hopeful he’d decide they were the perfect billionaire’s wife. They didn’t realize the money wasn’t important, it was only a means to an end.
With money you could take care of your family and protect them. Without it you were helpless.
He still remembered what it felt like to be nineteen, one minute on top of the world, the next minute seeing it fall apart. Remembered the crushing pain of suddenly losing his father, of looking at his mother and brothers and sisters, fearing he wouldn’t be able to hold everything together.
A seagull swooped low and hovered for an instant, catching their attention before it swooped away again with a shrill cry.
“He’s saying we’re crazy,” Kane murmured.
“For going to Victoria, or for going together?” Beth asked pertly.
“You don’t give up, do you?” he asked, more curious than annoyed. “You didn’t want to do this, and you aren’t going to give it a chance. At the very least we could pretend we’re friendly. That isn’t much to ask, is it?”
She sighed and gathered her windswept hair away from her face. “I’m just uncomfortable. I was never very good at dating or anything, and since Curt’s accident…” Her shoulders lifted and dropped. “There doesn’t seem to be much point.”
Curt.
The fiancé who died in a mountain-climbing accident—or to be more precise, the fiancé who was killed while trying to rescue someone. It was strangely daunting to wonder about the contrast between himself and this other man. There weren’t many heroes in the world, yet Beth had been engaged to one.
Kane searched her face, trying to tell how much pain the memory brought. “How long ago did it happen?”
“Almost five years.” The distant look filled her eyes again. “It’s not like my life hasn’t gone on. I miss him, but he loved me and wouldn’t want me to stop living because he isn’t here.”
“But you don’t think you can fall in love again…or that you’ll ever get married?” Kane frowned. “That isn’t right.”
Abruptly she turned back to the water, so all he could see was her profile. “And that’s an interesting observation from a man who openly tells the press he’s not planning to get married,” she drawled.
A low chuckle surprised Beth and she glanced at Kane.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just the thought of two determined singles being pushed together like this. Don’t you see? It makes things perfect. We can do some sight-seeing, have a nice dinner and enjoy ourselves without worrying about any wayward expectations. With that in mind, you’ll be happy to know I changed our reservations from the ‘romantic attic suites’ at the Empress Hotel, to regular suites.”
Romantic attic suites?
“That’s a relief,” she said, without being entirely sincere.
Emily had told her about the Empress Hotel after staying there with her husband, and deep down Beth felt a pang at missing the “special attic rooms.” According to Emily, romantic was an understatement. They were beautiful and private, decorated with the Empress’s original antique furniture, including some four-poster and canopy beds. Beth had never slept in a genuine four-poster bed, but she thought it would be fun.
More fun for a honeymoon or wedding anniversary, but she wasn’t likely to have one of those.
“So, are we okay?” Kane asked.
Beth shook herself. He was worried about the publicity angle of their “date,” and she was still worried about him thinking she had silly expectations.
“Sure,” she said. “I’m sorry about being so sensitive. It’s just everyone has been speculating about this romantic date with you, when all along I know it isn’t the least bit romantic. I mean, if you really think about it—what’s romantic about going out with a perfect stranger?”
Kale threw back his head and laughed. “You really are innocent, aren’t you?”
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